


For Want of a Nail

by Rynna_Aurelia



Series: The One Where Percy is a Magician of Questionable Competence [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Annabeth Chase Desperately Needs A Hug, BAMF Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), Character Death, F/M, Gen, In Which We Find Out What Happens When Percy Isn't Around, Not Canon Compliant - Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War, You Will be Shocked To Hear That It's Bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynna_Aurelia/pseuds/Rynna_Aurelia
Summary: Percy Jackson is declared dead at the age of three years. Olympus and Camp Half-Blood endure.As she stood before the Olympic Council, she was already holding aloft the bag that contained the Master Bolt, mouth already opening to proclaim that she'd done it, she was returning it, there would be no war,she had completed her quest—"You are late, daughter of Athena. Do you care to explain yourself?"Annabeth had run out of time.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Clarisse La Rue, Annabeth Chase & Thalia Grace, Bianca di Angelo & Nico di Angelo, Silena Beauregard & Annabeth Chase
Series: The One Where Percy is a Magician of Questionable Competence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572088
Comments: 67
Kudos: 240





	1. The Uncomfortable Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not, and will never be, Rick Riordan. Sadly, this means I don't own Percy Jackson.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, unbeta'ed, PTSD symptoms, some unreliable narrator, character deaths, life-threatening injuries, moral ambiguity. Also, please note that "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" is not just me being lazy/a coward this time. Things get, um, bad. I tag and warn for everything, but be careful.

_"Then leaf subsides to leaf._ _So Eden sank to grief,_ _So dawn goes down to day._ _Nothing gold can stay."_

 _-Nothing Gold Can Stay,_ Robert Frost

* * *

Dionysus was, in a word, bored.

Oh, it was a nice change of pace from the usual state of perpetual annoyance at being forced to deal with messy brats who called themselves _heroes_ , but playing nice with his relatives was excruciating while sober.

Which, of course, he was, because Father had refused to perhaps relax just a _little_ where one— _one!—_ nymph had been concerned. To be frank, Dionysus would call it extremely hypocritical of him, if someone were to ask.

And no one ever did, of course. About Father, his punishment, or anything else. But that was normally how these things went.

He was lounging across his throne, mildly annoyed with the twins' usual loud bickering to the left of him, and contemplating the virtues of persuading Ariadne to join him for this Winter Solstice meeting when entertainment arrived at the last moment.

Poseidon stormed in.

"Zeus," he growled, with his trident in hand and entire being crackling with power to the point that even Athena looked apprehensive. "I swear upon all the lives within my domain, _if it was you_ — _"_

He let the threat hang in the air, which now stunk enough of ozone that Dionysus—along with everyone else—gained an excellent idea of just what he intended to do if Zeus had indeed done whatever Poseidon was convinced he had.

Dionysus straightened in interest. Just a little.

Barnacle Beard had a tendency for melodramatics over imagined slights that rivaled Father's, but this. . .this was different. Whatever it was. It was dangerous. Something real had happened, something had been _done_ to Poseidon.

Come to think of it, the whole thing begged a rather pertinent question.

Father, looking mildly nonplussed by drama from someone that was not him, raised a dark grey eyebrow. "Brother. Done what, precisely?"

The power coursing through the air thickened, but Poseidon slumped, ever so slightly, and—oh, _dear._ That was real pain in his eyes.

Someone had died. A mortal lover, if Dionysus had to guess.

Wonderful entertainment indeed.

"Did you kill them," Poseidon at last said hoarsely, as if refusing to say it outright would keep whoever he had consorted with alive—and in _that_ idea was a possible complication Dionysus did not like the look of at all. "Did you kill them, Zeus? Let loose some monstrosity from Tartarus to murder them in the streets like so much cattle?"

He reluctantly straightened in his throne as Zeus's face darkened further from the accusation.

Hera, as was typical, looked like she had smelled something foul; Ares was already leaning in with interest, smelling the blood in the air and quite obviously ready to egg on whoever was necessary for a fight, while Aphrodite watched Poseidon with sympathy and Hephaestus deliberately ignored them all in favor of his own work, though his eyes very obviously were fixed on the rest of them.

The twins and Hermes, echoes of old grief in their eyes, looked ready to break up a fight as they leaned forward in their thrones. Athena studied the situation like the tactician she was, watching the stand-off between Zeus and Poseidon.

Dionysus would deny it until the end of them all, but he reflexively reached out for Castor and Pollux in that moment. Casting out a strand of his power for the briefest of seconds, making sure his sons were alive and where they were meant to be. Their mother had gone to the Underworld months ago, but that had been from causes beyond his control, at least.

The name _Thalia Grace_ echoed throughout the room as none of them said a word.

None of them dared even _think_ the names of Hades's last lover and children.

Oaths were oaths, after all, but that never seemed to stop any of them. The impetus for them was the only thing that carried any weight.

"My son. My son and Sally—his mother. Did you kill them, brother, after what happened to your daughter?" Poseidon snarled. "And did you really think I would not seek vengeance?"

Father gave an inhuman growl at the threat. The entire room exploded—rather literally—as the council leapt to their feet, with their loud accusations and cries bouncing off the marble walls. Dionysus grit his teeth.

Banishment to that damned camp was looking _quite_ attractive right now.

* * *

Nine-year-old Annabeth Chase had been at camp for a year when Chiron told her the story of Perseus Jackson.

He and his mother had been killed by a monster of some sort a few years ago. It wasn't all that remarkable, he had told her, grief still in his eyes for a demigod he would never meet. Muggings—much less supernatural ones—were common in New York. Plenty of demigods, especially ones with powerful parents, never saw age ten. Perseus had been three.

He had been three, and the only living half-blood child of Poseidon.

What they had all found out, Chiron told her in hushed tones, was that Poseidon had broken the oath sworn by him and his brothers after World War II: he had sired a mortal child. When he had felt the mother's death that night and was unable to find a trace of the child, he had stormed into Olympus and accused Zeus of killing them both.

"It took a miracle to prevent war that night," Chiron said, his eyes far away, "And as Mister D will tell you, it took some effort from him, your mother, and the entire council to talk the two brothers down. Still, we all felt Poseidon's grief for months after."

Annabeth remembered being forced to evacuate from Virginia when a rare full-fledged hurricane had hit them that year, and scowled. "Stupid. We didn't do anything. If Zeus didn't do it, Poseidon should have figured out who, and just hurt _them_ for justice. Why would he inflict his power on us?"

"I hope you never understand why, child," Chiron told her, his eyes studying her with some sort of sad emotion she didn't yet have a name for, "And I do believe he would have taken your advice, if they had found the murderer."

"They didn't?" Annabeth asked, startled, "But they're gods. They're all-powerful, they must have _some_ way—"

She stopped at the look on Chiron's face.

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

Annabeth suddenly felt like she had that first night when she'd run away from home: The night had been dark, there had been no mom and dad to look out for her, and Annabeth had nothing but her hammer and her conviction that her monsters were real.

Chiron's smile was sad. "You are a child of Athena, my dear. I trust you to connect the facts and act wisely with them. Even if they are uncomfortable truths."

The words of her cabin counselor echoed in her head. _Athena always has a plan._ Having a plan meant having the facts, and being prepared to act.

"I am a daughter of the goddess of wisdom, after all," Annabeth said quietly, and for the first time felt like she truly understood what that meant. "That means I have to deal with them."

Annabeth thought of Perseus Jackson, and wondered if she could kill his murderer for him someday.

She then thought of the Great Prophecy, and couldn't help but question, in a a part of her mind that hadn't been a child for a very, very long time, if they were better off for it.

* * *

As a twelve-year-old Annabeth Chase sprinted through Olympus, the Master Bolt heavy on her back, she began to regret sneaking out of camp.

 _"_ _Give me the bolt, sweetheart, and I might let you and the satyr run back to hide under Chiron's skirts."_

_"No. You've proven vulnerable to outside influence, Lord Ares. Give me the Helm of Darkness so that I can return it to the Underworld." Annabeth's heart beat as fast as a jackrabbit in her chest as she tried for diplomatic, as she tried to keep Ares, god of war, from deciding to kill her and Grover._

It hadn't been one of her better plans, she had recognized from the start. But it wasn't like there had been an abundance of options in the first place with the Summer Solstice approaching, the Master Bolt still lost, Zeus and Poseidon threatening war, and no one else willing to take on the quest. Not even Luke had— _no._

_She was the daughter of the goddess of battle strategy; if anyone could outwit Ares, she could._

She wasn't going there.

Later, when she had time, to think through that Iris Message on the pier of Santa Monica. How he'd had the _nerve_ to look betrayed when he had told her to spit in the face of what Thalia died for, to take the Master Bolt and join him, and she'd told him that he was crazy.

 _The sunglasses melted away from Ares's eyes, and an ugly smile crossed his face._ _"You really think it works like that, huh? A pretty little please and wide eyes, and this all just goes away? That's just the cutest thing, sweetheart."_

_Annabeth clenched her jaw, and slowly pulled out her Yankees cap behind her back._

When she had the time to think, to rationalize, she would think about it.

_"But I'll be generous," Ares decided, "One last chance before I roast you and Goat Boy alive. Give me the bolt, and you two won't lose anything vital."_

_Annabeth's knife pressed insistently against her thigh, but she didn't reach for it. She would have to be more creative than that with Plan B if she was going to win._

It was a mistake. It had to be. Luke would never do _that._ Something had to be wrong. Annabeth was missing some variable. She _had_ to be.

Annabeth couldn't bear the alternative, not with Grover only half-conscious in the lobby of the Empire State Building as a result of everything.

His horrible scream echoed through her mind again: a reminder of her greatest mistake on the quest.

 _She had not accidentally hauled the Master Bolt halfway across the country, fought Medusa, the Chimera, mechanical gods-damned spiders, and come face-to-face with Hades just to_ **_lose_ ** _to one of the dumbest gods out there._ _This was her quest, her only chance at the outside world; she refused to fail._

_Annabeth eyed the Helm of Darkness, still in Ares's hand, gauged the distance, listened to the police sirens in the distance, and finished the calculations in her head._

_"I will return the Master Bolt and Helm of Darkness to Olympus," she declared, as proud and disdainful as she could manage, like Odysseus, the most cunning of them all, "And you won't be able to stop me."_

_"Are you really challenging me?" he sneered._ _"I thought Athena's spawn were supposed to be good at avoiding being smashed into grease spots."_

_This was a terrible idea, she decided.  
_

_"No, those are your children," Annabeth said,_ _as her grip tightened on her Yankees cap to the point of pain, "The children of Athena always have a plan to_ **_win."_ **

_She turned invisible, sprinted for the Helm and yanked it out of his hands before Ares could blink **—did** gods have to blink, she wondered_ _**—** right as the police pulled up, just in time to see the angry man screaming at nothing on a beach._

_Annabeth sprinted back towards Grover, fighting the urge to cover her ears at Ares's threats, roared in a guttural voice that made her ears feel like they were bleeding._

_"You think you can **run?**_ _Your mother may think I'm stupid, girlie, and she may be right, but I still know a hell of a lot more about this world than you ever will!"_

 _Ares snapped his fingers._ _The only warning Annabeth ever got was a hot, dry whoosh of air that made her hair turn crispy as she ran_ _**—** _

_"In this world, I hold the cards. And god trumps stupid little girl," he growled._

_**—** Ran across a beach that was suddenly in flames._

But Annabeth didn't have time to think about that. She was too busy sprinting across Olympus, and hoping that midnight hadn't arrived—carrying with it the beginning of a third world war.

_All of it was covered in white flames so hot they were nearly blue and so terrifying in their height that she'd screamed out of instinct._

_Grover had just screamed in pain._

Later. She would think about it _later._

Going on a quest had been nothing like she had imagined. It had been nothing but days of feeling off-balance as they made mistake after mistake and met monster after monster.

Annabeth let the wind wipe the tears off her cheeks as she picked up her pace, trying not to think of Grover, how close they had come to dying with no one ever knowing where they were. She hadn't even left a note, so focused on stealing them enough supplies to get them across the country.

In the end, Luke had help them leave—

_("Just. . .be careful, Annabeth. Kill some monsters for me, eh?")_

She didn't have the _time_ for it.

Annabeth had a war to stop, and possibly multiple gods to convince of the value of peace.

She didn't have the energy for so much as a grimace either. But as she wove her way through an open-air market full of minor gods and nymphs, her breaths starting to come as short gasps for air and her lungs close to giving out on her, the emotion remained.

When the Master Bolt had been stolen on the Winter Solstice, Zeus had accused Poseidon of trying to avenge an imagined slight, and Poseidon had responded predictably. With no immediate suspect capable of stealing the Master Bolt themselves, it had spiraled as the other gods began to try and pick sides in the feud _quietly._

Annabeth didn't like the idea of having to convince a capricious god of the sea to _not_ end the world over his bitter grief. Not when her oldest friend said he was trying to do the same.

 _("There's a new Golden Age coming, Annabeth. One that we can make in her name, I promise_ — _")_

 _Later,_ she reminded herself as she stood in a square of merchants to find her bearings, her chest heaving out of panic and exhaustion. She couldn't do it. Not yet.

As Annabeth ran through the gorgeous hillsides of Olympus, some part of her brain still found time to gape at the architecture. It was the best sight she had seen since leaving camp for her quest, and the architect in her desperately wished she had time to stop and sketch some of the gilded terraces and white-columned mansions.

But she had no time. She kept on sprinting, the backpack containing the Master Bolt heavy on her back and her thighs burning.

Finally, Annabeth made it to the biggest palace of them all, making her way up the steps, through the central courtyard, and towards the honestly magnificent throne room, made of white marble and shining gold and towering columns that scraped the heavens.

As she skidded to a stop before the Olympic Council, she was already holding aloft the bag that contained the Master Bolt, mouth already opening to proclaim that she'd _done_ it, she was returning it, there would be no war, she had _completed her quest_ —

"You are _late,_ daughter of Athena. Do you care to explain yourself?"

Annabeth felt her heart, as if it were Celestial Bronze and not flesh and blood, sink through her chest, down, down past her feet and to the bottom of the Empire State Building.

As the gods stared at her, her skin prickling with the intensity of their gazes, she wished she could join it.

Annabeth had run out of time.

* * *

Months after the fact, Annabeth Chase told her cabin that she had no idea how she had averted war.

A necessary lie. One she told to preserve her pride, to make herself look _clever_ and _quick on her feet_ and _wise_ to overawed younger siblings when she spoke of her grand quest to save the world and deliver Zeus's Master Bolt back to Olympus. She needed to be a model of their mother, after all, a good counselor that they could follow.

In reality, she knew perfectly well what had happened: A combination of a demigod assuaging Zeus's pride by deferring to him very publicly as they returned his Master Bolt, her clearly desperate state as she ran in just _five minutes late_ , and some fast talking combined with diplomacy from Demeter, Hermes, and Athena, had prevented the third world war.

Annabeth wasn't quite sure she believed in luck, but if it existed, she had been given plenty by the Fates that day.

Poseidon, much to Annabeth's barely hidden displeasure, had seemed almost disappointed with the lack of a war, sullenly agreeing with the peace-makers at the end of it. Or maybe it had just been being forced to agree with Annabeth's mother. Remembering what Chiron had told her about the gods' telepathy, she had tried really, really hard to not think of Perseus Jackson when trying to figure out why he was so reluctant to sue for peace .

If the upset glare she received at the end of the meeting as the gods disappeared was any indication, Annabeth needed to improve her mental discipline.

Her mother had briefly spoken to her afterward, something that normally would have had Annabeth over the moon with barely-contained joy for weeks. She had said that she was proud of how far Annabeth would come, and that she loved her.

Annabeth knew the truth. She had _failed._ It was because her mother's merits that there would be no war, not because of Annabeth's own.

She needed to do better. To _be_ better.

It was a great coincidence then, when she got her second chance a few months later, thanks to their new _activities director._

"Hello, brats."

Tantalus. Every spirit and every dead criminal out there, and it was _Tantalus._

"Another delicious meal this evening, which looks just as delicious as all of you," Tantalus didn't bother to restrain his sneer as he spoke, nor the fractured, hungry look in his eyes. "I wish to make an important announcement of a brilliant idea I've had this afternoon—"

Lee Fletcher was not cautious of it. "That you're finally canceling the chariot races before someone finally gets killed? The hospital wing's _full_ thanks to that crash today."

Annabeth willed herself to keep a blank face even as her siblings began to mutter around her. The re-institution of the chariot races had only resulted in renewed hatred for the Ares cabin, fair or not, and an uptick in injuries that had broken Malcolm's spreadsheets.

"You will regret that, Liam Flinkert," Mr. D called out lazily, watching Tantalus with a cold, entertained glint in his eye, "Stables duties for you and your cabin for the next week, I think. Don't disrespect the activities director."

Tantalus smiled at the god, smarmy enough to make Annabeth feel like she needed a shower. "Thank you, my Lord Dionysus. It is a great tragedy, what has happened to the tree that protects this. . . _special_ place you live in. It wouldn't do to let too many of you die, I've been informed. Not if I wish to eat again."

As much as she hated that Chiron was gone, as furious as she was that Mr. D had picked the most loathsome candidate possible in the man who had tried to serve the gods his own _children,_ as much as she wanted to personally drop Tantalus back into the Fields of Punishment, she had a duty to her cabin.

She had to present a united front to her cabin with the person who had threatened to kill them all just last night.

She mustn't punch the _activities director_ in front of her cabin.

Gods, she hated Mr. D sometimes.

"We couldn't possibly cancel the chariot races that have brought so much joy to this summer camp, so instead I have instituted a quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece, which will be lead by the winner of the last chariot race, who proved her mettle against the bronze bulls just yesterday: Clarisse, daughter of Ares, god of war!"

The Ares cabin jumped to their feet, and began to cheer wildly while Cabin Nine began to mutter, with Jake and Nyssa shooting dark looks in a shocked Clarisse's direction as she was beckoned to the front by Tantalus.

A logical consequence, considering _Beckendorf_ had defeated the bronze bulls, with Clarisse's help. While he lacked the rare ability among the children of Hephaestus to create fire himself, he certainly didn't burn, and had been able to piece together a weapon to kill the monsters before too many of the more flammable cabins burned down. He had yet to receive so much as a mention from Mr. D or Tantalus.

There was nothing, of course, that Annabeth could say. Clarisse barely tolerated her on a good day, she wasn't close with Silena or Beckendorf, and with Grover gone to find Pan, she had no people she could truly confide in left.

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle! And, in the meantime, I do not recommend showing too much _disloyalty_ towards your champion. Ungrateful, rebellious children have a habit of meeting nasty ends in places haunted by. . _.dishonored_ kings. Ones waiting for revenge."

Malcolm glowered at Tantalus. Annabeth bit down on her lip so hard she drew blood.

_Don't disrespect the activities director._

* * *

Clarisse La Rue was one of the few who knew just how unauthorized Annabeth's quest for the Master Bolt had been, how close she and Grover had come to dying along the way.

It helped that she wasn't a fan of their new _activities director_ either.

As such, it wasn't too hard for Annabeth to persuade her to adhere to the Rule of Three for a proper quest, and take two companions with her into the Sea of Monsters—secondary, of course, to Clarisse's own role, Annabeth reassured everyone who asked her. But best not to tempt the Fates, especially when they were already losing Thalia's tree to a not-so-mysterious enemy.

But Olympus had declared the matter of the lightning thief and their betrayal closed. The quest and prophecy had worked, after all. End of the world temporarily averted. Luke's sudden disappearance from camp for "college" had nothing to do with anything.

Annabeth couldn't bring herself to outright lie past leaving out his name, and when no one pressed her on it, she had found herself. . .staying quiet. _("You shall lose what matters most, in the end.")_

She knew she should say. She knew that Chiron worried over who would decide to steal the Master Bolt, and had his own suspicions. But it was _Luke._ Annabeth knew him better than anyone who wasn't a tree, and she knew he would never turn. . _evil._ Gods, what a trite term.

But he wouldn't. He _couldn't._ He was better than that.

And Luke hadn't yet put the camp in danger. And Annabeth didn't have to fight him when she returned the bolt.

She let the shame hide in the back of her head and kept moving.

* * *

In contrast to her first desperate quest—and _Di Immortales,_ Annabeth wished she could go back and shake her younger self over her dream of _seeing the real world_ —the Golden Fleece quest was nearly everything Annabeth once could have dreamed of. Saving the camp and accomplishing a feat done only by a collection of the greatest heroes of antiquity? Sign her up.

Of her two companions, Silena was now the rare child of Aphrodite to become a hero in the eyes of the camp, after defeating Circe and helping to free Grover from Polyphemus, while Clarisse had received a new electric spear to replace her old one from her father, as a symbol of his pride in her leading them through the Sea of Monsters without dying.

And Annabeth. . .Annabeth had been able to face an uncomfortable truth.

_"Well, some unplanned dinner entertainment," Mr. D drawled. Annabeth jumped at the unexpected voice and whipped her head around to see Mr. D and the entire dining hall staring at them all through an Iris Message. "Thank you for that, Sarah Badeaux."_

_The sense of ugly betrayal that coursed through Annabeth when she realized what Silena had done was followed quickly by stomach-curdling shame.  
_

_"You heard what Luke said, Mister D," Silena said. Her voice wavered with exhaustion and her hands trembled a little around her sword, but having the presence of mind to call Mr. D spoke volumes. "He poisoned the tree, tried to kill us during the quest, and is siding with Kronos._ _Right, Annabeth?"_

_Her blue eyes were piercing as she looked at Annabeth, and she fought the urge to shift like a guilty child at the uncomfortable understanding in them._

_Instead, she mutely nodded in agreement. Mr. D sighed and looked vaguely annoyed at all the drama.  
_

_Luke scoffed. "So I had the guts to poison the tree. I have sided with Lord Kronos to destroy Olympus. You've known all this, Beauregard, and now the camp knows. What about it?"_

_"Because someone else is finally looking at you, I think." Silena, daughter of Aphrodite_ _—and gods, Annabeth would never mock the goddess of love or her children again_ _—threw a significant look in Annabeth's direction; on her part, Annabeth felt like the shame and betrayal would burn her alive from the inside out._

_She hadn't let herself think through the implications of poisoning the tree, much less if **Luke** had been the one to do it._

_How could he do that? After everything?_

_"You poisoned Thalia's tree," she said quietly, because if she let herself be any louder, she would scream and curse. "You tried to kill it and her, after. . .after stealing the Master Bolt from Zeus. I wouldn't call that guts."_

_Mr. D clucked his tongue in the background. "Well now, Landon. You have been naughty."_

_Luke ignored him. He was truly looking at Annabeth for the first time since she and Silena had come aboard the Princess Andromeda. He took a step forward, hands raised, and Annabeth stepped back, raising her knife on instinct._

_Luke paled. "Annabeth. You know why I did it. After everything, I had to do it."_

_Try and kill Thalia, Annabeth thought wildly, feeling like the ground was falling away from beneath her feet. He had tried to kill what was left of Thalia._

_"No, I don't. I don't know you, Luke."_

_She didn't recognize the son of Hermes in front of her. Or maybe she recognized him too well for the first time in years._

* * *

When they returned to camp, she told her cabin that her only regret was that she hadn't gotten a chance to punch the _activities director_ on his way out.

A newly-reinstated Chiron watched this with an unreadable look before holding her back at the end of the debriefing in the Big House.

"Annabeth, about young Luke—"

Annabeth quick to make sure she left herself no room for excuses. "I know, Chiron. I know he's gone, that he tried to destroy camp—"

 _"Annabeth_ —"

"—that I should've told _someone_ ages ago, that I was foolish, and thought that I knew what he would do, I—" Annabeth broke off, her voice failing her. Her eyes weren't burning with tears, but Annabeth almost wished they were as she stared at the ground.

She knew what was coming. Demotion, possibly informing the gods, and _Di Immortales,_ Annabeth didn't want to think of what came next. She had been so _stupid._ Her, the daughter of Wisdom.

 _"Annabeth Chase,"_ Chiron said, his voice stern and sharp, "You know what has been done. You know the consequences. I do not see what my reminding you of them would accomplish. I wished to tell you that I am sorry that you were forced to go through with it."

Annabeth stopped. "What?"

She dared to look at Chiron for the first time that meeting, and her jaw dropped without her permission at the pity she found there. "But Chiron, I—"

"Yes. And you and your cabin have kitchen duty for the foreseeable future because of it, and I am promoting Malcolm to be head counselor alongside you," Chiron said firmly, "But when the camp was in danger, you did what was needed. I know what Luke has meant to you. And I am sorry."

It all didn't make _sense._ Annabeth shook her head, feeling like the world had been tilted without her permission. "I shouldn't be trusted at all. I should be demoted, at minimum, Chiron. Gods know what Luke was able to get away with because I—"

"Luke did not get away with anything," Chiron's voice brooked no argument, "He took advantage of being your dearest friend from a very young age, and you managed it as best as you could. For all of your material intelligence, you are still a _child_ at thirteen years, Annabeth."

"I'm a daughter of Athena. I'm meant to be better than that. I should have _known_ that he was gone and done something," Annabeth said miserably. For all that she knew deep down that Chiron was right, that Luke had very likely known _exactly_ how reluctant she would be to give up on him—because that's what turning him into Olympus would have been—there was still a dark, calculating voice in her mind reminding her that she should have known.

No friendship lasted forever. And she was finally growing up.

"Child, we all think that it is easy to do what is right, that good is always kind and true, and all evil dresses in black and eats its own children."

"Yes, but—"

"It is much harder to know what to do when the people we respect and love do monstrous things," Chiron said gently, "Believe me when I say it speaks volumes of your courage and compassion that you believed the best in Luke, and did what was necessary when he failed you."

Finally, with great reluctance, Annabeth nodded. She slumped in her chair and let herself uncoil enough to stare off into space.

She no longer felt afraid. Just very tired. Of the guilt and betrayal. Of the gods-damned _quests._

". . .Does it get easier?" she asked, pleading.

She almost asked him to lie to her.

Chiron looked at her with every single one of his years spent watching demigods in his face. "I think you know the answer."

* * *

"Chiron, Annabeth, come quick!"

"Grover. What happened?"

"It's the tree, the fleece, it. . .it's _Thalia."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: _*Best Eddie Murphy From Mulan Impression*_ I LIVE!
> 
> Hi, y'all. I was given a magnificently shitty case of COVID-19 by my roommate this fine college term, and after surviving both fall term and COVID, I return with some updates you'll hopefully like.
> 
> This red-headed step-child, also known as The Annabeth Character Study Absolutely No One Asked For, is completely written, so I'll have the second half up in a couple days. Until then, take care, wear the damn mask, tell me what you think if you wish, and I'll see y'all on the flip side. 
> 
> (And, yes, I watched the original _Mulan_ a lot while I was sick)
> 
> (Also after this story, I have a half-written one-shot of Percy & Company defeating Apophis to finish. And THEN we finally get the story everyone has been patiently waiting for. Love y'all)


	2. The Way Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not, and will never be, Rick Riordan. Sadly, this means I don't own Percy Jackson.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, unbeta'ed, PTSD symptoms, some unreliable narrator, character deaths, life-threatening injuries, moral ambiguity.

_"These woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep."_

_-Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,_ Robert Frost

* * *

"So. Is Thalia the one, Bird Brain?"

"No idea what you're talking about," Annabeth snapped back as she started to take her armor off from patrol. Even with the tree healed and a small dragon acting as guard, Chiron wanted them patrolling the borders just in case Luke or his forces attacked. Annabeth had been forced to take more than her fair share with the disappearances to keep newer campers from being thrown out there. "Please clarify and try again."

She lacked energy of any kind for this conversation. With _anyone._

Clarisse rolled her eyes and kept charging on like a bronze bull into camp. "The Great Prophecy. I know you've heard it. We need a Big Three kid to complete it, right? And I'm guessing that with Kronos—"

"Don't say the name."

"—with Kronos on the return, it's about to be completed one way or the other. And you and her are too quiet about it."

Annabeth unstrapped her breastplate, undoing the buckles with shaky hands as she took the opportunity to mull over how much she wanted to tell Clarisse. Outside of one brief conversation with Chiron and Thalia, she had been sworn to secrecy outside of Thalia, gods forbid, dying. But on the other hand. . .

And camp was already ragged from attacks, with Thalia one of its fiercest and most visible defenders. The last thing they needed was a panic.

The hero's soul. _Cursed blade shall reap._ Annabeth prayed it didn't mean what she thought it did.

"Not bad," Annabeth conceded after a moment. "And I've been sworn to secrecy by Chiron."

"I'm not _that_ dumb, Chase. Figured the centaur would make sure of that. But you can give me _something._ It _is_ Goth Barbie, right?" Clarisse was adjusting her greaves as she spoke, and Annabeth would've been fooled by her casual body language if she hadn't gone on a whole quest featuring Sirens with Clarisse.

She was worried. Annabeth tried desperately to ignore the part of her that said Clarisse was smart to be.

She took a deep, steadying breath before answering the daughter of Ares. "Well, we had better hope so. Children of the Big Three aren't exactly _common,_ and if Thalia dies or doesn't fulfill it for some reason, there isn't anyone else around that we know of who could be anywhere near old enough—"

"Right, the whole Poseidon's kid thing. What's-his-face-Jackson, right?"

"—Perseus Jackson. And are you _trying_ to get the attention of someone angry?"

Clarisse scoffed. "He can't still be pissed about that."

"You weren't at the last Summer Solstice." Annabeth winced at the memory. Ares and Clarisse had disturbingly similar lines of thinking on the matter. "Anyway, Thalia's sixteenth birthday is in December."

"So we keep her alive until then, she ends Kronos like her dad did, war's over, all is good. We can work with that," Clarisse reasoned with a decisive nod.

"You assume that nothing will go wrong," Annabeth said skeptically.

"Yeah, I do remember the part where the three of them tried to stop having kids because one of them might be the one to overthrow Olympus. But Thalia's not Luke."

Annabeth flinched before quickly changing the subject. "It's not that. We've already had several close calls, and it's only going to get worse as they get stronger."

Grover still had the burn scars from the quest for the Master Bolt. Travis Stoll had lost a finger from the attacks after Thalia's Tree had been poisoned. Annabeth knew that Clarisse still had nightmares about being turned into a hamster after mouthing off to Circe one too many times. Silena had been nearly killed trying to free all of them from the spa with the help of a girl named Hylla.

They hadn't lost anyone since a mission to the _Princess_ _Andromeda_ 's last location a month ago, which two unclaimed campers had never come back from. People just disappeared. So many disappearances to places Annabeth suspected she knew.

She wasn't sure which was worse. Chiron had braced them all for the possibility of seeing familiar faces again on the wrong side of battle, but Annabeth didn't know what her first instinct would be if that happened.

It scared her, not having a plan.

"It's gonna be war, Chase. These things happen," Clarisse said, her voice grim. She finished strapping her armor on, and put her helmet on her head. "Now, where's Maimer?"

* * *

Annabeth was glad she had taken the extra dagger today.

"Thalia, get everyone evacuating from the campfire! We're under attack!" Annabeth yelled over her shoulder as she ran to the Big House to alert Chiron. The Celestial Bronze dagger had been a birthday gift from Silena, with deadly elegance in its carved hilt and cruel edge of the blade that had made Thalia smirk knowingly at the time.

Knife-fighting was her specialty, and she was damned good at it. But she had learned that battles where she needed to be _visible_ —playing general was both something that she was _excellent_ at and despised in equal measure—required something else in her open hand to keep her from getting eaten alive by an eager monster.

Such as the ones she could hear shrieking right then—much too close for her liking, if she was tracking the source right.

Thalia was already sprinting into the forest. "On it! Tell Fletcher to get his cabin's asses in gear while you're there, I hear harpies!"

Annabeth let out a breathless Greek curse as she increased her speed to the house, her legs burning in protest as she dragged a reluctant Nico di Angelo behind her. He was just a new arrival and not even ten; the only thing he could do in a battle right now was get killed.

She ran up the steps, dropping a wide-eyed Nico on the porch without losing a step. "Stay here, don't go out past the boundary, do whatever Chiron tells you to, it'll be _fine."_

"But Bianca's with the Hunters, and _they're_ down there—"

Annabeth almost rolled her eyes at the petulance. She didn't have _time._ "Bianca is two years older, and has immortality along with heavily-armed sworn sisters on her side. You have no training. _Stay here._ Promise me, Nico."

"Fine. I guess." Nico gave her a childish pout so out of place with the sounds of battle in the distance that Annabeth would have laughed if she had time to spare.

"Thank you. Really. Chiron, they're on the beach!" Annabeth barked, not sparing any time as he came galloping out of the Big House, hauling her onto his back on his way down to the beach.

The minute she saw a sphinx, snarling at Michael Yew as he tried to shield one of his younger siblings, she launched herself off of Chiron's back, the gifted dagger and her knife humming in her hands.

She kept herself visible as a distraction, but the sphinx still didn't last long. It burst into dust, and Annabeth pivoted to tag-team Thalia, who was in the process of electrocuting a manticore as the sky darkened above them with storm clouds.

The battle from there was a bloody blur. It remained confined to the beach and water—until some of the monsters figured out they could press elsewhere along the boundary and made for Half-Blood Hill and Thalia's Tree. But the biggest, most vicious monsters—Cyclopes, Annabeth recognized with a hint of panic, Stymphalian Birds, and was that a _hydra?—_ remained on the beach.

No apparent target, unless you counted seeing how many bloody battle deaths demigods could die. Annabeth could feel the realization sink in among all of them, as people began to fall and not come back up: The goal was to _endure._

After using one of Cabin Nine's launchers to bring down a group of Stymphalian Birds with a spiked net of Celestial Bronze, Annabeth was in the middle of scaling down the cliff when that entire horde of monsters retreated without warning, flying or swimming to where a large cruise ship was waiting on the horizon.

There were no cries of victory from the beach. The monsters had gotten what they had come for. Whatever it was, be it a physical prize or simply to chip away even further at the camp's fighting spirit.

Annabeth stopped climbing to let her lip curl at the sight, the blood of her injured siblings still on her armor. _This?_ This was what he wanted? Demigods, terrified, injured, and dying in the one place they believed to be safe?

She didn't know what had happened. She didn't know what she had fucked up or should have seen. She didn't _know_ how to reconcile the son of Hermes she knew with the demigod trying to destroy them. But it was him. Insistently, _proudly_ him.

And Annabeth was finding it harder to care by the day.

Once back on the sand, she tracked down a shaken Bianca, in the process of being fussed over by Phoebe and Zoë Nightshade, for her and Nico's sanity. Thalia wasn't far off from the Hunters, and as Annabeth came to her, the daughter of Zeus greeted her with a relieved grin—one slightly marred by the amount of blood and monster dust she was covered in.

"Annie! You're not dead or mortally injured!"

"Don't call me that," Annabeth snapped, shooting a poisonous glare at a snickering Malcolm. "Is that all yours?"

"Just got messy when fighting a hydra. I'm fine," Thalia said dismissively, at the same moment a healer from Cabin Seven took one look at the two of them, paled, and hurriedly gave them both bars of ambrosia. Thalia gave them a look of offended skepticism while Annabeth savored the sensation of her bruised ribs, a gift from the sphinx she had killed, healing over.

"Any sign of why they were attacking?" she asked Thalia.

"Oh, we know why. There was some sort of creature trapped in the water, a sea bull serpent thing. One of the Stolls—Connor, I think—was about to raise the alarm about when all of _them_ arrived. A pair of _dracaenae_ waded through the chaos and netted the thing." Thalia ate the ambrosia in one swallow, giving a relieved groan as the bloody slashes on her arms and face disappeared. "Gods, I'd like to know what for. Don't think Kronos is into catching sea monsters because they're fucking _cute_."

Annabeth frowned. "Sea bull serpent thing?"

"Yeah, I didn't recognize it, and last I checked, Kronos is the Titan of a lot of hand-wavey bullshit, but creating new monsters isn't one of them."

The monster certainly sounded familiar, Annabeth mused. But without seeing it herself and fresh off the messy battle, anything beyond what she had just fought was escaping her.

As she and Thalia walked the boundary on their way back to the Big House, Annabeth tried to wrack her brain for any references of sea serpent-bulls in myths, much less one that would interest the gods or Kronos. Something from Ovid sounded like it could fit the bill. Maybe _Fasti,_ she considered.

She was brought out of her thoughts, however, as they neared Half-Blood Hill and could hear the distinctive sounds of sobbing. She and Thalia jogged over to see what had happened, but were stopped by a grey-faced Sherman Yang.

"There were new arrivals," he said quietly, "They got caught in the crossfire. Harpies."

Behind him, Annabeth could see the two prone bodies on the ground.

Teenagers.

Thalia inhaled sharply at the sight, and Annabeth put a hand on her shoulder. Thalia quickly reached up and squeezed it as her eyes remained on the two dead demigods.

Besides the two bodies was Chiron, trying to comfort a sobbing satyr.

"What were their names?" Chiron asked them, "We will honor your charges. Who were they?"

 _Young,_ Annabeth thought in a daze. They were supposed to be _young._ Not what looked like two years older than her.

"A-Amelia Nowak," the satyr managed in-between heaving, wet gasps, "A-And h-his name was Ethan. Ethan Nakamura."

* * *

Annabeth didn't say it at the memorial.

She didn't say it as she watched the cabins mourn the losses of their own, and shared the same wary looks with Clarisse and Silena. But as she shared a look with Malcolm, and he went off to his spreadsheets without another word to start adjustments for supply runs and projections for future losses, she knew that day.

It wasn't going to get better.

* * *

"Don't do it, Thalia," Annabeth begged. "Please."

Six years of war.

"Annie. . ." Thalia murmured, and for once, Annabeth couldn't find it in herself to correct her, "You know it's for the best. You saw what happened. It's a weight I've never wanted, and I can't be trusted with it."

Annabeth did not have it in her to do _six more years_ of this.

Outside the throne room of the gods, knowing that they had a strict time limit, and desperately trying to keep her voice low, Annabeth continued to plead with her, to try and make Thalia _see_. "You saw what Bianca did during the battle with those skeletons, and she and Nico are siblings. _Full siblings._ You know that means, Thalia, and Bianca's joined the Hunt. Nico is _ten."_

"Then you have six years to make him the greatest hero we've ever seen. I have all the faith in the world in you and Chiron, Annabeth."

"I will _not_ raise him to be a soldier, much less to potentially _die!"_ Annabeth had her lines. She didn't feel like she had many these days, but she had them. And one of them was telling a doe-eyed _child_ that they were going to grow up and either destroy or save the world, likely dying in the process.

"And you think I want to?" Thalia spat. "I just spent a couple years as a tree, thank you, I did my time."

"You might survive! And I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it. People are _already dying,_ Thalia. This war is _here,_ today, and running away with the Hunt is _not_ going to fix it," Annabeth said, incredulous. This war was going to happen whether they all liked it or not, and Thalia could end it _tomorrow._

"The Hunt will keep a power-hungry maniac from getting all she's ever wanted," Thalia said sharply, "I don't know what kind of rosy glow you gave those memories of yours from before camp, Annie, but wipe it off right now. Fuck, I've _always_ wanted power. Same as Dad. Giving me the Ophiotaurus is a recipe for the apocalypse."

Annabeth didn't immediately respond. The sensation of losing the last person from her rag-tag runaway family, the one she had thought she could rely on to spit destiny in the face and _fight,_ was paralyzing. Had they all changed when Annabeth wasn't looking, or had she always been this incompetent with people she loved?

She thought of her father in San Francisco and how it had taken him a minute to recognize her after she had run away all those years ago, and how her not-so-evil stepmother had offered her and her questing companions lemonade before rescuing Artemis.

Luke didn't bear thinking about. But now Annabeth had another one in front of her.

Annabeth didn't know anymore.

Thalia, in typical fashion, broke the heavy silence with a blunt knife. "Maybe the solution to all of this is tracking down the asshole who killed Poseidon's kid and ask what he was thinking. Because _Di Immortales,_ it would be nice to have a backup right about now."

Annabeth was pretty sure it wasn't healthy to be as bitter towards a dead toddler as she and Thalia were. She was also failing to care.

"Considering it would mean he would be alive, he would likely agree with you," Annabeth said with a scowl, "But what's done is done. We have to make our choices with what we have. I believe you'd make a good one. _Please,_ Thalia. Don't do this."

She didn't beg, as a rule. But she was shamelessly begging Thalia now.

But it was, evidently, the wrong thing to do. Thalia's face darkened. "Have you listened to a word of what I said?"

"Have you listened to me? You're going to get people killed!"

"You'll get more people killed if you get your way," Thalia snarled, "I will not be subject to that _fucking_ prophecy because you're so afraid I'm not whatever version of me you have dreamed up that you refuse to face reality. There are no good options here, Annabeth."

Annabeth felt as if she might cry from frustration. "I have, Thalia. I have used my brain, and I've done the math, and then I did it again, and then I had Malcolm do it twice. The Titans are not going to stop with camp during this war, and even if they did. . .they won't spare us. They won't spare the mortals either. Six years, Thalia."

"I heard you the first time," Thalia said wearily, "But we still have the whole world and Olympus to think about, Annabeth. I'm one of the _worst_ people you could have wake up tomorrow and face that _fucking_ prophecy after this quest. I nearly ended it today. I was _so_ close to just. . .taking the easy way out. So easy."

Her eyes glazed over the same way they had when Dr. Thorn had offered her the Ophiotaurus's entrails for the power to destroy Olympus, and Annabeth, for the first time in possibly years, was truly afraid.

"So easy," Thalia whispered, "To just end it."

Then Thalia shook herself, her eyes clearing. It was like the moment had never existed. "N-No. _No._ We all deserve better. I'm sorry it's come to this. But I will not turn sixteen, and I will not be the half-blood of the prophecy. You're wrong about me."

She was going to leave. Something in Annabeth, made of the dreams and idealism she thought destroyed by Luke already, shattered at the realization. And short of tying Thalia to that horrifying statue of Zeus in Cabin One, nothing was going to stop her from joining the Hunt.

The fact that Thalia may be right in her measure of herself—a measure Annabeth would _never_ agree with—didn't stop it from feeling like a knife in the ribs. They were stuck between a rock crushing them and a hard place ready to break beneath their feet in terms of their choices, and Thalia had picked the fate that would take her away from camp.

Annabeth clenched her jaw. It wasn't like she had no practice at being left alone.

"Then go. Go back to the council," she ordered coldly, "Lady Artemis is waiting. _Lieutenant Grace."_

Thalia flinched, and Annabeth felt a flash of ugly satisfaction.

It would have been one thing if she had just been leaving Annabeth. But leaving Nico di Angelo, a ten-year-old who knew more about Mythomagic than wielding a sword, to a prophecy that he had already lost his mother over, for a Hunt that had already taken his sister, was quite another.

"I _am_ sorry," Thalia repeated, shaking her head helplessly, "But I believe in you. Chin up, Annie. Always."

When Annabeth crossed her arms and gave her nothing but an icy stare, Thalia sighed. Annabeth watched her going into the throne room, and from her place outside in the cold night air, she could hear her begin to recite the oath of the Hunt.

"I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men. . ."

 _Men_ wasn't what Annabeth would have suggested.

* * *

It helped that Bianca was still alive, if with the Hunt. It helped with Nico's state of mind, if with nothing else.

Every so often, a part of the Hunt came by camp to allow Bianca time with her brother—something becoming more and more infrequent as Bianca came into her own as Hunter, Nico argued with her over the importance of family, and Annabeth began to worry the di Angelos would go the way of her and Thalia. And every time, Annabeth had to bite back the urge to beg Bianca to become mortal again long enough to fulfill the Great Prophecy.

But she still had some morals, and they weren't that desperate. Yet.

Thalia never visited, and Annabeth told herself that she was glad.

So with Kronos openly returning, and the rumors of just what he was forcing Luke to do in order to give him a body becoming ever darker, Annabeth threw herself into the problem of the Labyrinth's exit into Camp Half-Blood—as discovered by the unlucky Will Solace when he fell in and met two confused _aeternae._

Giant, bloodythirsty things. And Solace had barely been claimed a week ago.

As Lee Fletcher met them outside the hospital wing, his scrubs more crimson than blue, Annabeth and Chiron shared identical looks of resigned worry.

"No need for the funeral looks yet. He'll live," Lee said grimly, "Mostly. The _aeternae_ bastards nearly tore him to shreds. He'll be sporting some interesting scars for the rest of his life and will probably want a knee replacement if he makes it to middle age, but it's better than the alternative."

Annabeth grimaced. Chiron asked delicately, "Do you have an idea of when he'll be conscious? We will need to know whether it was a chance attack or scouts."

"Likely three or four days. Suffered some head trauma. I'd bet on accident, though, the _aeternae_ aren't exactly smart."

Chiron nodded. "I would imagine you are correct. In the meantime, Annabeth, Lee, I would suggest the two of you lead a quest into the Labyrinth with one other demigod. We can, of course, put guards on this entrance, but only the gods know how many other entrances are nearby."

Sound enough, Annabeth supposed. She would want backup at least when they were getting used to the Labyrinth, but Clarisse had been nearly immovable from the Big House and Chris Rodriguez's bedside.

"A quest for what, though. You can't map the Labyrinth, unless. . ." Lee trailed off. "Daedalus died _millennia_ ago. He wasn't even a demigod."

"The Labyrinth was said to have died with him, but Clarisse and Will are proving the first part isn't true," Annabeth reminded him, "And even if we wanted to, we don't have any clear-sighted mortals on speed dial. Ariadne's String is likely our best shot at navigating maze, and if Daedalus is somehow alive, of which there is a chance, he'll be the one who has it."

Annabeth _knew_ it was for the war. She _knew_ the high stakes and that if they didn't do everything right, they would all die. She _knew_ that anyone who escaped death for this long didn't do so for good reasons.

It didn't stop her from feeling like Christmas had come early at the idea of meeting _Daedalus,_ one of her oldest heroes.

* * *

Something wasn't right with Quintus.

Annabeth wasn't sure of what, exactly, but there was something about him that put her teeth on edge and made her reluctant to go along with Chiron's plans for him to teach Nico. It wasn't his personality; while Annabeth was the first person to admit the bar was nonexistent after Tantalus, Quintus was perfectly charming and kind to all of the campers and from what she had seen, a patient tutor with an increasingly reticent Nico.

It was something in the way he moved. Annabeth couldn't put her finger on it, but something wasn't _human_ about it.

"Hey, Olympus to Annabeth Chase. You still with us demigods?"

Annabeth blinked. "Sorry, Lee. I was just caught in my thoughts."

"It's cool. I just figured that if we're going to get to the forge soon, we should get moving again." Lee pointed over his shoulder, further down the relatively-harmless brick tunnel they had been following. "I did some scouting, and the tunnel seems all clear to me. It's also warm enough that I think we're close."

Annabeth got to her feet and the two of them began to carefully pick their way down the tunnel, trying to avoid triggering another death trap or sleeping monster. The last one had been a sphinx who had gotten annoyed when Annabeth had reasoned her way out of answering the riddle and eaten most of Lee's medical supplies.

"This would be a lot easier if we had help," Lee grumbled as he cut off a swath of vines with a knife, clearing out a window and revealing what looked like mountains, "Someone who could see through the Mist so we don't get killed by bad special effects from an old Western. Or at least Sherman and Grover before they left for Carlsbad and maybe Pan."

Annabeth chuckled. But at the same time, an old memory sprang to mind from the quest to find Artemis. When Bianca, still jittery after her close call with Talos, had shot a red-haired mortal girl in an elevator.

_"Do you always shoot people who blow their noses?" she had snapped. "How about you do something about those glowing skeletons?"_

She'd been grouchy. And even more annoyed when they had promptly left on the next floor with no explanation. And—not that Annabeth had cared much at the time—she had also seen through the Mist better than some demigods.

Much as Annabeth hated to admit it, she was a mortal whose help would have come in handy.

It wasn't long before Annabeth began to feel the heat Lee had mentioned. The air seemed to be doing its best to bake them alive, and as her hair began to curl, Annabeth had to fight to not think of that awful beach with Ares from what seemed like so long ago. A dull roar became louder the closer they got until they finally emerged in a giant cavern the size of a sports stadium.

Below them, lava bubbled away, and above the two of them moved several dark shadows. She and Lee managed to leverage their way off the rocks to get a better look: several creatures that looked familiar over a forge—

"Telkhines," Annabeth breathed at the same time Lee muttered, "Shit."

* * *

_"Good thing that sphinx didn't eat everything, huh?"_

_"Lee—"_

Annabeth was about half a mile away when the volcano blew, aided by Greek fire and a son of Apollo.

_"You're the daughter of Athena. Tell me the best way to blow this place sky high and get out there. Camp's going to need you more than they need me."_

_"That's not how this **works.** Give me time and we can do this without anyone dying."_

The tunnel shook and rattled around her for what felt like eons, raining dust down on her until she was blinded from stinging bits of rock.

_"The telkhines behind us aren't going to give it to you. I'm the one with the supplies. Tell me what to do and get out of here so one of us can live."_

_". . .You'll need to start further down on the last level. It'll be easier to trigger the volcano that way, especially with the kind of magic I think the telkhines have done. From there, work clockwise, setting them evenly until you run out or are forced to trigger."_

And still she kept trying to outrun the explosion.

_"Makes sense. Tell my siblings I'm really sorry, won't you? And. . .tell Michael to raise some hell against these guys in my name."_

She was a mile away when the tunnel stopped shaking and she let herself start crying.

* * *

"You look terrible." Drew Tanaka's look of profound disdain accompanied her acknowledgement of Annabeth as she climbed out of the Labyrinth.

Annabeth wished she could find it in herself to care.

"Thanks." After all the running and fighting she had to do, every muscle in her arms and legs was burning. But it barely registered and didn't even hurt. Not really. Annabeth couldn't feel the grief or the pain anymore. Just numbness.

"Your hair's never going to be the same after all that dust, sweetie," Drew warned as she inspected Annabeth up and down.

"I'll take it under advisement," Annabeth mumbled. She needed to find Chiron. Then Michael and the rest of Cabin Seven. She owed it to them, at the very least.

Annabeth could see the moment it occurred to Drew that Annabeth hadn't gone into the Labyrinth alone. Could see her eyes widen, already knowing the answer Annabeth was about to give. "Lee—"

"Is gone." When would it be _enough,_ Annabeth wondered. When would they have lost enough for the Fates to give them a break? "Place we needed to find for a god was infested with telkhines. He bought time for me to get out and blew the place."

Detached. Clinical. Play the leader.

"Anything else you have to say about that, I would _really_ appreciate you saving for someone who gives a shit about your snark, Tanaka," Annabeth added, as much for Drew's sake as her own.

Drew Tanaka, renowned for her love of ripping the metaphorical throat out of anyone who looked at her funny, ignored this remark altogether. "You'll need to see Chiron, then. Mitchell will be back any second, and he can deal with this guarding nonsense. C'mon, hon, let's go to the Big House."

She must've been using her charmspeak, because Annabeth followed her without a second thought. In normal circumstances, Annabeth would've spent ages lecturing the other demigod about the importance of autonomy and consent.

In her current circumstances, Annabeth wasn't even ashamed of the brief relief at not having to make one decision, after having to go through yet another quest, finding her way through the Labyrinth, yelling at Lee _what are you doing, don't play the martyr, get down here, we're smarter than this,_ and then—

She hadn't quite made it out in time. The explosion had knocked her out. She had woken up to a world of ashes, and down another friend.

Annabeth was getting really tired of watching people die. Or leave. Or turn evil. Or all three.

To be fair, she hadn't found the one who did all three yet. But even if she just played the odds, Annabeth figured it was a matter of time.

* * *

Annabeth and Drew nearly walked through the Iris Message in Chiron's office before Clarisse yanked them back into the hallway by the backs of their shirts.

"Shut up," she whispered harshly as she frog-marched them towards the lobby, "He's meeting with Poseidon about protecting Long Island Sound."

Without losing a beat, Annabeth escaped Clarisse's grip and straightened herself out in the hallway before escaping to the bathroom to get the feeling of death off of her.

Safely alone, she spared a moment at herself in the mirror. Her hair was more ashy grey than blonde thanks to the volcano, the path her tears had taken was stark on her dirty cheeks, her shirt was destroyed from fighting telkhines, and she was bloodied and bruised at the edges. She looked like a wreck.

Annabeth wasn't a complete masochist. She allowed herself five minutes to break down over the sink.

Five minutes, to let her eyes burn without shame. To heave and sob and curse the Fates for taking Lee from them until she was hiccuping.

Then she washed out her hair and face, changed into some extra clothes from the lockers, strapped her knife and dagger to her hips, glared at her own reflection for good measure, and walked out.

Clarisse and Drew were waiting for her in the lounge. As Annabeth walked past, Drew pursed her lips and gave her a once-over. "Make sure you let that cute second of yours bully you into sleeping tonight, Chase."

Annabeth ignored the disgust at hearing anyone describe her nerd of a half-brother as "cute". She was capable of looking after herself, and told Drew as much.

"Sweetie, I'm not your mother," Drew drawled with disdain, "I don't care if you can tie your shoes or remembered to clean your favorite dagger. I _do_ care if the smartest person in this camp is functioning properly to keep us all from dying, and you need sleep after what you experienced. Possibly therapy and more crying time. Seriously, that monk repression y'all have going in Cabin Six can't be good for all of you."

Annabeeth wondered how her younger self would feel if she knew the real reasons for disliking children of Aphrodite, five years on from her arrival at camp. They enjoyed ripping the emotional guts out of someone and inspecting them far too much, just like their mother.

"If you're done trying to do what her own mother couldn't do, junior," Clarisse said, "I believe you were bugging me about what Chiron said."

"I wasn't 'bugging you'," Drew said with a sniff. "I was curious about who he was talking to. I thought that was _encouraged_ around here. Was that seriously Poseidon?"

"Yeah. God of the sea, lord of horses, king of barnacles, blah blah. He and Chiron are making sure we don't repeat the bullshit with the serpent-bull and other things. What about it, junior?" Clarisse looked like she was contemplating if she could challenge the daughter of Aphrodite to a fight and get away with it. Annabeth empathized.

Drew sneered. "I'm Silena's second, sweetie. Address me with respect."

No charmspeak, Annabeth noted, so she had learned from the last time she tried to pull it with a child of Ares. It was progress, she supposed.

"Tanaka, I promise no one cares outside of the newbies you bully."

"That's rich," Annabeth said with a snort. Clarisse not hazing anyone less senior than her was a relatively recent development.

"No one asked you, Annabeth. Anyway, your point about Barnacle Beard, junior?"

Drew gave an elegant shrug of one shoulder. "Oh, it's nothing. I'd never seen him before, that's all. But he looks like a weirdo I go to school with. One of the Kanes. Lacey could tell you about them. The biggest losers in the whole school, and _that's_ saying something."

"Age?" Annabeth asked, half-curious despite herself. Clarisse looked similarly intrigued, if only for something to stave off boredom—or the urge to pick a fight with one of the most vicious children of Aphrodite in camp. Drew cheated enough to make the Stolls jealous. Never crossed any lines, but Annabeth couldn't remember an actual fair fight.

Drew burst out laughing. "He's an idiot who goes to Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted, honey! He's a demigod, much less who I think you're thinking of, and I'm Queen Helen of Troy."

"It's Sparta," Annabeth corrected. "She was never crowned Queen of Troy."

Drew gave her a withering look. "No one cares about the backwaters."

Clarisse looked ready to throw her through a window, so Annabeth was supposed she _should_ be grateful when Chiron entered the room before anything permanent could be done. Should be.

"I understand you wished to see me about the Labyrinth, Annabeth? Drew?"

Annabeth watched the years be added to Chiron's face as he took in the absence of Lee.

* * *

"Chiron! You need to stop the game. Get everyone out of the forest."

"Chris? You're. . .coherent."

"Clarisse made a sacrifice and prayer to Mister D this morning. Godly compassion hits once a millennium or something. But you need to get everyone out of here _._ Now, please, Chiron—"

"Who? Slow down, my boy."

"Luke, he's leading them, they're coming—"

_"Kronos."_

"What?"

"Yes, thank you, Annabeth. You have missed quite a lot, Chris."

"Chiron, he's telling the truth, I saw it myself. They have Ariadne's String, and Daedalus's Labyrinth, right in the heart of camp—"

"How long do we have, Clarisse?"

"Minutes—nothing. There is no time."

* * *

When the army exploded out of the Labyrinth and Clarisse roared at her siblings to lock shields, in those precious few seconds before the monsters fell on the campers and Hunters and chaos would reign, Annabeth let herself think about Kronos.

About Luke.

 _("He took advantage of being your dearest friend_ —")

_("Annabeth. You know why I did it.")_

He had promised her, once. _Family._ Never again would she be let down by family. Given her a knife to seal the deal.

A promise that he shattered a hundred times over by now.

Clarisse stood to Annabeth's left, the spearhead of Lamer II glittering in the harsh sunlight above her head. On Annabeth's right stood Grover Underwood and Silena Beauregard with Drew Tanaka behind them. Visibly nervous, but both of them with steady hands clenched around their pipes and swords. Respectively.

Annabeth couldn't see them, but the faction of Hunters who had answered their call in time, led by Bianca di Angelo and Phoebe, stood behind them at the ready.

And if he had his way, Kronos, in Luke's body, would kill them all.

_("So I had the guts to poison the tree.")_

Annabeth gripped the dagger in her hand just a bit tighter. A _dracaena_ approached her, snarling. Annabeth snarled right back and wished it was Luke—or Kronos, or was there much of a difference at this point? A small part of her still hoped there was—and wished it was them instead.

_("Kill some monsters for me, eh?")_

She lifted the dagger Silena had gifted her and swung hard.

* * *

They won.

Or rather, they "won".

With so many people dead, it felt like a Pyrrhic victory to Annabeth.

She dared to look back at Bianca's body, laid out beside Phoebe and the other casualties, all too pale and still. She remembered Nico's panicked screams that had turned into a horrifying battle cry as he had pursued his sister's killer into Labyrinth, a small army of skeletons summoned by the siblings hot on his heels. She quickly looked forward again and was greeted with the Stolls hugging each other tight on the ground. Connor's ankle had been shattered by Kampê, but it was a small price to pay for being alive.

Not too far away, two healers were splinting Chiron's broken legs while Grover sat in a daze, recovering from the Panic he had created. Annabeth watched as Michael Yew, who had gone into shock over the news of Lee's death, commandeered his siblings and healthy Hunters with gravitas belonging to someone far older, and they did triage to the best of their ability.

As she did her walk around the survivors, Silena and Clarisse walked up to her.

"Nice to see you're not dead, Bird Brain," Clarisse said gruffly. Her left shoulder was in a sling and Silena was on crutches. Annabeth gave Clarisse a weak, genuine smile. The three of them were alive. They were alive.

"What do we do now?" Silena asked her.

Annabeth looked at her, startled at the deference to her authority, before she realized: They were all looking to her. Travis and Connor were sitting patiently nearby. Drew had an arm around Mitchell's shoulder, and had an admittedly impatient look on her face.

"Yeah," Michael Yew chimed in with an exhausted sigh, "What now, Chase?"

They had lost so many people. But now the battle was over and Daedalus's final death had ended the Labyrinth and the danger it posed—and gods, Annabeth hoped the time she had made him wait had allowed Nico to escape. But if not—

If not. . .

Death was a fact of their world. But it didn't mean Annabeth ever had to like it. Or that she ever had to accept it. The same thing went for failure.

Annabeth would break the gods-damned Great Prophecy open and rip its guts out if that was what it took to win this war. _That_ was her plan. No more waiting for immortal best friends or scared children or the Fates to rescue them.

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, tilted her chin up and made sure she stared each demigod down in turn. "Now? We keep moving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: _Fasti_ by Ovid is where the Ophiotaurus is referenced. This has been your regular nerd alert. Also, yes, I sort of reboot Drew's character in this 'verse, but she was one giant racist, sexist stereotype in canon, and I do what I want.
> 
> Anyway, with this complete, next up on the docket in this 'verse is an account of the defeat of Apophis titled _That Strength Which in Old Days._ Will be a one-shot with Percy, Carter, Sadie, and company. Should be fun, so keep a look out for that? I'll update this when it's up. And after that, yeah, we're at the one everyone's been waiting for. Let me know what you think if you wish, and take care.


	3. UPDATE - SEQUEL'S UP

The next installment in this 'verse, _That Strength Which in Old Days,_ wherein a giant snake is fought by Percy and the Kanes, is up for your viewing pleasure. Enough of you follow this that I figured it would be most convenient.

Thank you all for your support, and I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
